Day Old Danishes
by Evaldas
Summary: Vincent was trained as a Turk to gather Intelligence, pick locks, and perform certain tasks as a sniper. However he did not realize that his job discription also included another form of dirty work. In the end, there is nothing too dirty for a thug.


**_Author's Note:_** _A small piece I wanted to write up after being inspired by an actual event. Partly I could see Vincent having to do this type of work before the Turks became what they were known for in FF7_. _This scene can also be found in When the Sun Sets in Ardea. Sorry if this seems really silly, but I have a hard time sometimes keeping things serious. _

---------------------------------------

Day old Danishes 

Two suited Turks stood staring at the large dumpster.

"You are sure he threw it in there?" One asked.

"Positive." Vincent rubbed at the back of neck and glared at the trash that was build up along the brick wall. "I certainly do not intend to jump in there." He finally stated as he looked away.

Hank crossed his arms. "And you think I would? Hell no."

Vincent looked up at his companion and glowered. "No, I just cleaned this suit from the last time."

Hank looked back at the dumpster. "Fine, we'll flip for it."

Vincent dug into his pocket and produced a coin. "Heads or tails?"

"Heads." Hank grunted.

Vincent flicked his thumb sending the gil piece into the air and caught it up as it came tumbling down. He kept his hand over it a few second before revealing the side. Seeing it was tails, he cursed. Vincent briefly entertained the idea of challenging the other Turk, but he knew better then to try to face down the large, stocky man. He was not know as "Hank the Tank" for nothing. With his buzzed blonde hair, standing a little over six foot and thick arms, Vincent had no question the man could turn him into a human pretzel with little effort.

Tossing the coin to Hank, Vincent walked over rubbing his hands together in thought. He knew he could not simply climb over the ledge, his tredless dress shoes would not allow it. Instead he knew he needed to vault over. Taking a deep breath, the Turk made a running jump and vaulted over the side only to land in a triumphant splat. The only problem with the vaulting is there was not definite way to stop once you were on the other side.

'_At least I landed on my feet.'_ Vincent winced as he felt the garbage and debris slip around underneath him. It had been raining sporadically through the day making a dirty job far worse. _'Okay, blue plastic bag.'_ He lifted up crushed boxes, bags of garbage, shoes and paper. There was also a half empty box with fruit covered pastries_. 'Hey there's even Danishes in here. Probably day-olds.'_ He then frowned realizing what he just thought.

"We don't have all night, Valentine."

Vincent growled and withdrew his hand in disgust after sticking it in something wet and slimy. _'Somehow not seeing that offers a little comfort.'_ Vincent straightened out and addressed Hank.

"If I can see what I am looking for, we can get out of here faster." Hank approached the side and looked over.

"Damn, glad it's you doing that."

Vincent snarled. "Just give me some light...oh hey!" Slip sliding over to the far corner, he grabbed a small piece of blue plastic that stood up from underneath a cardboard box. Vincent quickly produced a small bag, the one they had interest in looking for. Hank snatched it from Vincent and opened it up and dug through the contents. Finding the torn halves of a picture, he tossed the rest back into the dumpster.

Happy he found what they were looking for, Vincent had momentarily forgotten he still needed to get back out. Looking for anything to launch himself off of, he found only soggy trash. Taking a chance, Vincent attempted to vault back over. Ignoring the cold wet metal, Vincent lifted his left foot up to the edge and began to pull himself up. Instead, his foot slipped and he only backwards into the trash.

Hank looked back to only to hear Vincent yelp and a pair of hands flailing at the air.

"Valentine, I never thought you to be one to goofing around." Though all he heard in response was an "ow".

Lying still, Vincent reassessed his situation. _'Vaulting it is definitely out of the question. What did I land on?' _He quickly scrambled to his feet the best he could, his back soaked in the bottom liquid smelling like a combination of vehicle oil, laundry detergent and fermented grapes_. 'I suppose I could swing one of the black covers and climb over...'_ His thoughts broke when felt something furry brush past his ankle.

Vincent shrieked and jumped in response. Hank watched as his Turk companion scrambled up from inside of the dumpster and perched precariously on the edge with his gun drawn.

"Valentine?"

Vincent felt his balance waver and he began slipping backwards, this time away from the dumpster. Tumbling down, Vincent quickly came to his feet and coolly placed his gun back in the holster. Acting as though he did not shriek like a woman or fell, straightened his tie and jacket and approached Hank.

Hank however wrinkled his nose catching the dumpster stink that seemingly soaked into Vincent's suit.

"You are not riding inside the car!"

Vincent reached up and removed a piece of wilted lettuce and nonchalantly flung to the ground. "You are going to make me walk then?"

The dark clouds above broke open and drenched the two men.


End file.
